


Nascentes morimur

by SandyLovesDestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:45:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3252008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandyLovesDestiel/pseuds/SandyLovesDestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There aren't many stories about them. But whenever an angel falls for humanity, for mankind, for a single man, one in seven billion, their story is always worth telling and being heard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nascentes morimur

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the interpretations of the events from the show that are described here aren't mine. If you are the one who thought of it or knows the person who did, please contact me on [tumblr](http://orgasmicsam.tumblr.com/) so I can credit them accordingly.

_Nascentes morimur_

_From the moment we are born, we begin to die_

Angels, for all of their seriousness and increativity, sure love stories.

They whisper many tales amongst themselves, some happy, some sad, some that are just plain facts, but there are the ones that were told again and again throughout centuries and millenniums and even further back in time. Tales of one of their own, the ones who had fallen for humanity.

There aren't many stories about them. But whenever an angel falls for humanity, for mankind, for a single man, one in seven billion, their story is always worth telling and being heard.

<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>

Dean Winchester strode beside his best friend, Charlie, into the study hall, talking animatedly with her about the latest Hobbit movie as she listened, laughed, and chirped in pieces here and there. Mostly, she just let him talk because he always looked so cute when he was like this, being so excited about something that makes him happy. God knows Dean needs more things that make him happy in his life.

They both settled into their respective seats besides each other and got their essentials out before the lecturer took his place at the front of the class.

"It was just awesome," he said to her, shaking his head. "So awesome."

"Yeah, I got that," Charlie said, amused. "Some thousand times ago."

He just nudged her with his elbow and glanced around the class to get a lay of everything.

It was a pretty crowded class, almost every seat was filled but rumour was the number of people attending it will have dwindled down by half by the end of the first semester because the professor teaching it was ruthless in his criticism and remarks.

His vision was filled with people talking, laughing, and preparing for the class, but then suddenly it wasn't anymore. In its stead, the striking color of glassy blue. It took him a moment to realise that he had caught some random dude's eye without even thinking about it and turned back around in his seat, jerking from the contact for some odd reason.

The boom of the long ruler colliding against the hard surface of the black board silenced the entire room.

_Welcome to Psychology 101_

Dean gotta hand it to him. Despite his brashness, Professor Hendrickson knew what he was saying and Dean respected him for that.

"No bullshit," he said. "You got a problem, you take it up to me. Don't fucking lie about why you can't turn in your essay on time, why you can't complete a project in time, why you didn't show up on time, or I will make your existence a very miserable one.

"Pay attention in class or you'll fail. I go through everything as I deem fit and that's pretty fast for some of you slackers who go to this class and don't do any work, yet still expect a good percentage in your grades. So shut your mouths when I'm talking and _listen_."

Minutes into their professor's introduction, he asked them all to stand up one by one and introduce themselves, tell everyone a little as to why they're in this classroom to begin with, and the likes so they could all get acquainted with each other.

The introduction process started at the back and made its way up front. Dean had all of his witty jokes and catchy one liners to make a good enough impression on everyone that they'd probably help him if he got into some trouble in the future. That was until the dreamy-eyed guy started talking.

There was an air of pomposity around him. His manner was self-assured, overly so, if you asked Dean. Even his wardrobe was out of place. He was wearing a faded, slightly oversized beige trench coat over a dress shirt and pants. Like dude, it's college, not a fucking board meeting.

His name was Castiel. He was here to study and that's it. Psychology has always fascinated him and he harboured hopes on pursuing this subject.

End of story.

Not that Dean had any problems with people taking their studies way too seriously, but this guy seemed to consider himself better than everyone just because he does. The way he spoke just rubbed Dean in all the wrong ways and he felt himself having an odd disliking to this particular guy.

The feeling became mutual when one night after leaving a wild party as Dean was on his way back to his dorm. He crashed his car into the guy's friend, Balthazar, and killed him in the process.

Apparently, Balthazar was all that Castiel had left that even remotely resembles family, and Dean killed him.

Oh the many punches Dean took for that one.

They hurt like a bitch but he suffered them all the same, each and everyone of them just to keep himself from all the self-loathing thoughts he would inevitably have if he were left to his own devices.

He didn't press charges. Guess after all that anger and hatred had passed he realised that it was all just an accident even if Dean never got the memo. And, since Dean's driving record was squeaky clean except for recent events, he got to pay a fine that's a bit too much for his finances to take on but he managed and community service, which was for all his crimes, was practically a pardon.

Castiel didn't apologise for what he did, though, and Dean didn't blame him. He just disappeared out of the blue and skipped all of his classes that month. And he was a straight A student.

Nobody knew where he went and Dean was worried. It was one thing to accidentally kill someone's best friend, it was another thing to kill someone's best friend who just happened to be the only one he was close with and condemning that person to a life of pain and grief, giving them a ticket that goes straight to hell.

So, using his dad's old connections and favors, he attempted to track the guy down.

But he didn't need to look very far for days after beginning his search Castiel turned up at his dorm room, drunk and beaten up.

"Jesus christ, dude, what the fuck?" Dean hissed as Castiel collapsed into his arms, boneless.

Looking behind him to his passed out roommate, Dean gently and silently dragged Castiel inside and laid him with utmost care onto his bed. He reeked of alcohol and dirt.

His trenchcoat was dirty and his face was bruised very badly but thank God nothing was dislocated.

He did this.

Swallowing a bile that's suddenly risen in his throat, he tried to undress the guy. Stripping him to his underwear and went into the bathroom to dampen a towel and began cleaning his wounds. He'll need a proper shower tomorrow. And some things to take the edge off of that hangover.

He did this. If he hadn't been so drunk that night and had asked Charlie to pick him up instead of trying to get back himself all of this would have been avoided. No one would have died and Castiel wouldn't be this bloody, black and purple mess that was currently laying unconscious in his bed.

Dean hadn't touched a drop of alcohol from that night until now even though he desperately wanted to. Everytime he picked up the bottle he had the urge to smash it into the wall and back away because he might kill someone if he did, lost in the drunken stupor.

He was lost in thoughts, not very pretty ones, mind you, while wiping away the dirt on Castiel's face when the guy mumbled something in his sleep.

It was lost to Dean the first time he heard and the second time, but the third time, Dean caught it as he was expecting it.

He said: "Balthy, I'm sorry."

And did that just broke something inside of Dean.

Castiel was sorry. He was fucking sorry. What the fuck? It wasn't his fucking fault that the other guy's dead. It wasn't him driving his precious baby down the road when he was drinking just moments before that. It wasn't him who hit Balthazar's car. It wasn't him that killed Balthazar. It was Dean.

He ruins everything. Destroys everything he touches. He's toxic. For everyone.

When Dean finally got around to tucking Castiel in and went to sleep on the floor beside the bed using his many jackets as mini blankets, tears pricked beneath his eyelashes and he let them fall. Between Mr. Comatose #1 on his bed and Mr. Comatose #2 on the other, he was pretty confident that no one could have heard him.

Luckily for him, he was right.

Morning came as his roommate shook him forcefully out of his deep slumber, still too tired and strung out to process anything.

"What the fuck, Dean, why is he here? He wasn't there when we went to bed. What the fuck happened?" Benny asked, keeping his voice down and glancing at Castiel every now and then with uncertainty in his eyes.

Dean rubbed his eyes sleepily before replying,"Long story. Tell you later."

For a long while Benny just said nothing but stared at Dean like he's got something to say.

"You have something just spit it out," he grunted, pulling away and tried to stand up straight.

"Nothing. Just, be careful, Dean. We both know how much good he can do on your self-esteem."

"My self-esteem is mighty fine, thank you for insulting," he said, fully awake now. "So are you gonna use the bathroom first or shall I?"

Sighing, Benny just shook his head before racing to the bathroom.

Dean didn't even try, though he still called after him: "You're lucky the other two pricks are gone for the night!"

"The two pricks" here implies the actual two other pricks who live in the room next door with whom they share the bloody bathroom with. Pigs, they were.

A groan came from somewhere to his right and Dean looked down to see one Castiel beginning to stir, clutching his head and shielding his eyes from the sunlight streaming in.

Scrambling to close the curtains, Dean grabbed some random pieces of clothings from the pile on Benny's bed, opened the bathroom door and tossed it in, burning his eyes with a flash of the guys in the shower naked.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, startled.

"Go out the other way!"

"But what about my books?"

"Come back and get them later!"

With that, he closed the door.

Another groan came from Castiel as he sat up in the bed, hands still on his head and body curled into a fetus position.

"Can you guys just stop screaming?"

"Yeah, uhh, sorry about that."

Dean came over to rummage through his bedside table for some pills and handed over to Castiel along with a water bottle.

"These'll help."

The guy looked up to his outstretched hands to his face, frowning slightly.

"I'm trying to poison you, you know."

"Of course not," Castiel said. "I wasn't implying that you were." And with that he took the pills and the water bottle from Dean's hand.

He unscrewed the cap, letting it fall from his hand onto the bed, popped the medicine into his mouth and then gulped down the water until there was none left.

"Thank you," he said, screwing the cap back on and held it in his hands, looking down onto the clear plastic, fiddling with its label.

"Yeah, sure, thank me," Dean snorted as he settled onto Benny's bed, grimacing when he had to swat away the dirty clothing.

Castiel's eyes snapped up to his and stayed there for a long time. It was just as mesmerizing as the first time he saw them.

"You know that it wasn't your fault, right? It was just an accident, nothing more," he said, his voice deep and resonating as he surveyed his surrounding with a curious look.

"That's what everyone keeps telling me," Dean replied without emotion.

"But you don't believe them," he said, eyes shifting back to Dean for a moment. A fact.

"Yes."

A moment of silence.

"You know they're right."

"No, they're not."

"They are."

"Look, if you're going to tell me not to blame myself then maybe you should tell yourself to stop blaming you. I don't know what happened or how your mind works to even think that it's your fault but it's seven in the morning and I would very much love it to not have this conversation right now."

Castiel opened his mouth then closed it.

"You started it," he said quietly.

And Dean laughed. He actually laughed.

"I did, didn't I?" he said, too quietly.

Silence.

"So what happened last night?" he asked, deliberately not meeting Cas' eyes but instead faked a fascination in the bread crumbs left on Benny's bed.

"I'd rather not talk about it," Castiel replied, his voice rough.

"Another time," he said and Castiel didn't reply. "Where were you this past month?"

"Here and there."

"Oh, yeah, I hear they've got great food, 'Here and There'. Great commodities, too. Such a good place it is."

Castiel's shoulder shook in silent laughter then groaned and clutched his head, which in turn made Dean snorted.

"I'd go easy if I were you," he said, amused.

"Yeah," Castiel mumbled, using his hand to wipe his face and wincing as he accidentally put pressure on his injuries from the act.

"Careful with those. They're pretty bad."

Nodding, Castiel shook his head before raising it up to meet Dean's gaze. His eyes were green, the color of emeralds that would have sparkled in the sunlight.

"You know, if all of this hadn't happened I think I could have been your friend."

Dean snorted. "Really? I thought you were a pompous prick who always got what he wanted and couldn’t give two shits about other people."

Castiel blinked. Dean would have back tracked if he didn't burst out laughing.

"Yeah, same."

It was his turn to stare.

"What? You seemed cocky, so full of yourself. I actually hated you a little. Okay, fine, a lot. I always complained to Balthazar how- "

He stopped short, and Dean's heart suffered another wound cut open.

"I should probably go," Castiel said, getting up on his feet and swaying a bit as he righted himself before Dean could make a move and come over to help him.

"Yeah, probably for the best," Dean muttered under his breath, and went to get clean clothes from his wardrobe to prepare for his shower as Castiel put on his clothes.

"You're gonna return to class, right? You can't just abandon all of your studies like that."

"I… I don't know," Castiel said, looking at the ground, his fingers lingering on the buttons of his shirt.

It's all kind of meaningless now, he doesn't say, not when he's not around anymore, he didn't voice.

But Dean knew that look. He knew it like the back of his hand. He had that look on him when Sam passed away years ago from brain cancer. Ironic, really. Sam was the smartest kid he knew.

"Just think about it. You gotta try for him. He wouldn't be very happy with you just going off into the night doing whatever it is that you do and ending up in his murderer's dorm room in the middle of the night," Dean said and immediately regretted it. "Sorry, bad joke."

"Yeah, bad joke."

When he was at the door with his hand on the door knob, Dean said, "Hey, text me your number." Dean scribbled his digits onto a piece of paper as Castiel watched in silent confusion and handed it over to him. "Someone's gotta check in on you now and then."

"And that's gonna be you?" he asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Gotta do something to compensate for all the guilt."

Castiel sighed. "Dean, it wasn't your fault. And it's not like I'm going to go jumping off a cliff or something. I'm not a child, you know."

"I know," Dean said and offered him a sad smile.

Castiel just looked at him for a moment longer before tucking his number into his jacket and leaving through the front door.

The moment that door closed the one to the bathroom opened.

"What the fuck, Benny? Didn't I tell you to go the other way?" Dean scolded.

"You did. But the door to the other dorm is fucking locked, genius. The two pricks locked it."

"That's what you get for stealing their beer," Dean smirked.

"Yeah, well, they shouldn't have been talking so loudly then."

Shaking his head, a half smile on his face, Dean headed to his shower.

"'Heard everything, you know."

"Yeah, well, just keep your trap shut about it."

"Isn't your fault, you should know that."

"I know," Dean replied and Benny said no more.

He knew. He just didn't believe it.

The next day of their class, Castiel showed up, all cleaned up and serious as always, except for his face which was still full of black and purple bruises, and he looked very tired. There were red rims around his eyes and bags under them.

When Castiel went to sit in his seat, Dean couldn't stop himself from glancing back at him every now and then, restless and wondering to himself whether or not he should do something to help the situation.

"Hey, sorry, but can you please switch seats with that guys over there?" Dean asked the girl sitting on his right while pointing toward Castiel.

As she followed the direction of his finger, her face began to crinkle up into a frown. Soon, she was looking back and forth between Castiel and him with a look of recognition. The crash wasn't something that was kept quiet about. Everyone knew about it because Balthazar wasn't exactly an unknown face around campus. He was one of the more popularly known kids, actually. Imagine how many people were despising Dean for his carelessness then.

But fortunately, she just nodded in understanding, gathered up her stuff and left.

Dean watched as she moved toward Castiel's seat and talked to him. They exchanged a few words and Castiel furrowed in brows in confusion before moving his gaze to Dean, looking ponderous.

But in the end he got up and switched seats with her.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Castiel asked as he sat down next to him, dumping his books onto the table with a thud.

"Helping you out. You looked miserably lonely up there," Dean whispered as Professor Hendrickson entered the class, his boots tapping on the floor loudly as usual.

"I've been sitting alone ever since the first day."

"See? Miserable, I told you."

Castiel gave him a look but he just ignored it.

Instead, Dean glanced at Charlie and saw the worried one she was giving him.

What are you doing? She silently asked him

I got this. He replied and she just stared at him for a while before looking away.

He so didn't got it.

Later that day Dean almost beat a guy into a pulp because he was running his mouth and talking shit about what was going on between him and Castiel.

He just lost it.

Went completely ballistic and lashed out at the guy. It wasn't one of his best moments.

It was Castiel that stopped him from rearranging that guy's face into a more colorful and creative arrangement.

"Dean, what were you thinking?" he grunted at him when they're in the bathroom alone with Castiel trying to wash off the blood from Dean's hands.

"I wasn't," he replied, breathing heavily, seeing red.

The other guy just sighed and pulled Dean's left hand under the stream of water, using a towel he got from the dispenser to get the sticky residue off of his knuckles. Dean hissed.

"You shouldn't have done that," Castiel told him gently.

"I shouldn't have done a lot of things."

Castiel didn't have a proper reply for that.

"We should just forget about this whole thing. Pretend it never happened. It'll go away," Castiel said, moving onto his right hand.

"How can you even say that? He was your friend. Your best friend, your brother. The only thing you had left. And I killed him. I killed him, Cas. I took the only person you ever cared about and you're telling me to just forget it?" He half shouted with pent up resentment. For something, for everything. There was a lot of things that he hated, that he loathed, but to point them out one by one? He couldn't. It was all mixed up together like a massive cluster of shit.

Dean pulled his hand angrily from Cas's grasp, wondering idly where the nickname came from but didn't pay much attention to it. He liked to nickname people. They made him feel closer to the person in question. But closer to Castiel? That was fucking crazy. Borderlining insanity. You don't befriend the best friend of the person you just killed.

"No, you didn't, Dean," Cas replied, turning off the faucet with a false calmness that they both knew would crack at the slightest pressure.

Dean provided it.

"I did. You know I did. Everyone does. Everyone hates me for it. They think I'm a monster because that's what I am. The only person who's forgiven is you. The person who's most affected by his death. Why? Didn't you love him, Castiel? Didn't he mean the world to you?"

Cas' eyes flashed. "He was everything to me."

"Then why are you - "

"That doesn't mean that I'm going to be mad at you for something that was just an accident - "

"It wasn't! I killed him! Drove my car right into his and he died - "

"You were under the influence of - "

"That's not an excuse and you know it."

"No," Castiel said. "It wasn't."

They stood there, parallel to each other, breathing heavily.

"Charlie forgives you. You friends forgive you. They know that it wasn't your fault."

"But it _is_ ," Dean insisted. "If I hadn't been so much of a bull headed dick I would have called Charlie or Benny to come pick me up and - "

"Do not, tell me about 'ifs' and 'maybes'," Castiel said, his voice low and gravelly, even more so than usual. "If I hadn't told Balthazar that I needed a lift in the middle of the _fucking_ night because I forgot to fill up my gas tank before taking a drive he wouldn't have crashed into you and wouldn't be dead right now.

"If I hadn't been so forgetful he'd be here right now. And everything would have been all fine and dandy but it's not because I forgot to buy the fucking gas before deciding to drive around town just because I felt like it. So don't you dare talk to me about "ifs" and "maybes". It wasn't your fucking fault you hit him. It was mine so just forget about it and let it pass. Forget it ever happened and rid us both off of this attempt to try and make it up to one another."

And with that, he left the bathroom, slamming the door on the way out.

It was almost year before they even spoke a word to each other again.

After that day, Castiel moved back to his seat and life went on. Balthazar's death stopped become the topic of every conversation everywhere, and everyone just moved on.

Dean did, or at least he tried, to forget about it and didn't let it eat him up from the inside too much.

Everything was okay for a while until Sam's birthday came around the corner and it all fell apart.

He could feel his grip on every slipping and sliding until he lost his hold and ended up on the streets, leaning up against a stony brick wall with a bottle of whiskey in hand under the pouring rain, crying. But the tears just kept mixing up with the rain drops and he couldn't tell them apart, so he wasn't very sure that he was even crying at all.

He was numb, just very, very numb.

How do you kill cancer?

How do you kill something that's there but isn't?

In the morning, by some miracle, he made it back to the dorm with Benny thankfully gone for the day and headed straight for the toilet, puking up his guts as his head pounded like a bitch with a jackhammer.

He missed class that day, the first time ever in this semester, and got several text messages and missed calls from Charlie but he knew she knew him well enough to know what he's up to. It's a yearly occurrence by then. Dean kept his promise to Sam, he moved on, partially. But whenever the kid's birthday rolled around the corner he couldn't help but get bombarded with all of the memories of his past birthdays. They were happy, they were together, poking fun at each other and fooling around. He was alive.

And he broke.

Every single year.

But this year it's worse because he held within himself the knowledge that he just condemned Cas to the same fate.

Every year from now, Cas will be beating himself up in some fucked up way to get through the pain of losing Balthazar just like he is.

So he didn't go to class the next day, either.

Instead, Dean went to the clearing near their house when he and Sam spent 1996's Fourth of July lighting up fireworks and firing them up at the sky, watching the bright colorful columns of light flying up into the vast darkness above and exploding into a hundred little sparks, raining down on them. It was beautiful.

And for a minute he thought he was back in time, at that exact moment with little Sammy, watching the lights danced before his eyes and looking down at his little brother as he said:

_"Dad would never let us do this, Thanks, Dean!"_

Then, he hugged him. Sam had wrapped his arms around his middle and hugged him tight, cheek on his chest.

He loved that kid more than anything, he was his Sammy, his little bro, the one who he tortured and made fun of but ultimately would go to hell and back for. He would, he really would. He just couldn't and now Sam's dead. Gone.

How do you kill cancer?

He didn't know how long he stayed there under the starry night, spread eagled staring up at the night sky with glazed eyes, looking at everything yet nothing at all. His senses were all numb again. He couldn't feel a damn thing, a trade he'd developed after the first couple years of losing Sam.

"I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing," he'd said at his funeral. And he got his wish.

His phone was buzzing constantly on the ground beside him, that much he knew. It kept blinking and vibrating. It was really disconcerting.

He didn't hear Cas approaching until he was sitting beside him.

With grace the guy settled beside crosslegged beside him and stared at the sky thoughtfully.

"It's a clear night," he commented. "The stars are coming out tonight."

Dean said nothing.

"You know, we used to go to this one place for my birthday every year, Balthazar and I, and - " And then it was just Cas telling Dean about the times he and his best friend went to that one place on his birthday every year, where crazy shit happened for no apparent reason and they'd just laugh about it and enjoy themselves even though they didn't know what the hell was going on.

"And when he passed away…" He said it like it wasn't Dean's fault. "I just… It was kind of weird you know? I talk to him everyday and see him everyday and suddenly he was just… gone. And I kinda lost it." He let out a little laugh. "I went to a bar, looking to get beat up. It's fucked up, I know but it just hurt, you know? And I got what I came for. I regretted it immediately the next morning, hurt like hell."

All he heard was: "It was your fault."

"But I don't blame you, Dean. I've never blamed you, in fact. Not even when I lost my temper and beat you up.Yeah, uh, sorry about that, too. You can't control these things it just kind of - "

The more Cas talked the more Dean asked himself the same question he's been asking ever since he lost Sam,

How do you kill cancer?

You can't.

How do you kill Dean Winchester?

The list goes on and on.

"Why don't you hate me?" Dean cut Cas off mid rant and he stopped short, staring down at him.

"What?"

"Why don't you hate me?" Dean asked, his voice void of any emotion. "Why don't you hate the person who killed your friend? Why don't you hate me? Despise me? Why don't you want to kill me?"

"Dean…"

"I know I did. Wanted to kill my brother's murderer that is. I hated it with all my soul. I wanted to find it and rip it apart. I wanted to tear it to shreds and put it back together only to do it all over again. And again. And again. But I couldn't. It wasn't real. It didn't exist in a state where I can just reach it and rip it out limb from limb. You can't kill cancer. You can't fucking kill cancer."

"Dean, I - "

"Why don't you want to kill me? I killed your best friend, the only person you have left. I ran my car straight into his. He died and I survived. Don't you think that's unfair? Your best friend's gone now. You two will never go out to that place you were talking about ever again. You'll never see him again. Never hear him talk, never hear his laughter, never hear him constantly yapping in your ears about this girl Jess he met…"

"Dean, you're drunk, you need to get home."

"We didn't have a home. At least not here in Kansas. We were always on the road after my mother died in that fire. Always traveling from place to place. We almost never come back here with several exceptions. This is where we lit up fireworks one night without our dad knowing and everything was so beautiful. It was so beautiful, Cas. Everything was so bright and colorful and -

"I was happy. For once I was happy. It was this warm fuzzy feeling inside of my chest that I couldn't shake and it felt… good. I was happy. Happy…" Dean trailed off, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"But anyway, we never had a proper home. But we did have one. It was inside of our dad's care. 1967 Chevy Impala. Took us everywhere. We spent so much time inside of it I think we'd have gotten sick of it but no. It was our home. Our safe haven. You don't just get sick of your home, Cas. You just don't."

At that, Castiel nodded, and kept his words to himself. They can be said tomorrow, or even the day after that. But for now, he'll let Dean have this moment, lost in thoughts and a sea of emotions that he's the only person who can help himself through this mess. He'll find a way. Castiel knows he will once he's got his head back together in one piece.

Once he's accepted that it wasn't his fault that killed Balthazar.

<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>

"It's not working."

"Be patience, Naomi, trees don't yield fruits right after you've just planted it."

"But we've tried so many different ways, so many alternatives, and none of them are working. They just keep finding a way back to each other."

The other angel said nothing.

"Maybe we've gotten something wrong. This is not so much a punishment as a gift. It's like giving them chance after chance to fall in love with each other again and again. It's sickening."

"They always find a way?"

"Always. In whatever alternatives we throw them in, they just keep finding a loophole and compromises. They sympathize and they feel. They _love_. This kind of connection doesn't just happen. Only between soulmates and even then an angel and a human can't be each other's soul mates. It's impossible. Illogical. Unreal."

The look on the second angel was thoughtful. He was quiet for a long while before speaking again.

"Castiel must have given him a part of his grace when he pulled him from Hell. The only one who stayed behind to keep searching for Dean Winchester when all had given up."

"Even when we tried to fix him, to bring him back to us, he still broke again. It is unheard of. It is unnatural."

"Everything changes, evolves, or have you forgotten that?"

"No, I haven't. But this is not evolving, this is - "

"History repeating itself in a different form."

The angel, Naomi, went quiet.

"Anna, she fell for that _demon_."

"Well, she wasn't a demon back then when Anael first laid eyes on her. Hair the color of fiery red to match her own and an attitude that rivaled hers, she was challenged and you know how much Anael loved a good challenge."

"Feelings. Emotions. Flaws."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not."

"Stop speaking in riddles, Hannah, and give me a solution. The other angels will not rest until they see these two getting their rightfully deserved punishment for what they've done against Heaven."

Rightfully deserved punishment? Hannah thought as she gazed down the silhouette of the two men, one sitting on the dampening grass in the chilly night air, one spread out on his back staring up at the sky, expression blank but heart filled with so much passion, so much pain, so much anguish... what punishment that would ever be rightfully deserved in their case? They did nothing wrong. They tried to save the world and each other in turn. One saved the world for the sake of saving and one saved the world for love. Love for the righteous man.

Their story began when Dean Winchester died and went to Hell. The angels panicked and sent out many troops to restore his body for Heaven's uses for he was the vessel of the great archangel Michael. After ten years of searching, though time meant nothing to angels, they did not belong in a cold yet burning hot with dead, guilty souls such as hell, some gave up. Twenty years passed and even more abandoned the cause, then thirty then thirty five… Every single angel had given up hope except for one. One deeply loyal soldier, one brave angel, one of the bravest of them all. He found Dean Winchester and put his soul back together bit by bit, pieces by pieces with his grace until it was whole again and raised him from perdition.

From then the angel was tainted, some would say, by human feelings and emotions. He felt. He loved and he hated and he thought for himself. Castiel helped the two brothers to stop the apocalypse that the angels wanted to happen, he saved them time after time and sacrificed himself again and again for them, only to brought back by God himself. The angels never knew or understood why but they were enraged. Their plan would have worked. It would have came through if it wasn't for him. If he hadn't became so attached to humanity, to Dean Winchester and his brother.

So they tried to re-educate him. Fix their bravest, most loyal and most efficient soldier to fight for their cause once again. And they almost succeeded if they hadn't gotten one thing wrong. Dean Winchester cares about Castiel. In whatever way that he did, he cared and instead of begging for his life, he begged Cas to come back to him. To make their broken family whole again. That was what broke the compulsion they've temporarily pulled over his mind.

Then, Castiel ran.

That was one of the first times he chose Dean Winchester over Heaven.

Many things happened in between the gaps, many suffered and many died. When given another chance to either fight with Heaven and kill Dean Winchester or fight with the righteous man and be locked out of Heaven forever, he chose the later.

It was just a matter of time from that point. A matter of time when they were both wiped out from the chess board along with Sam Winchester for Heaven to wreck havoc upon the Earth and humanity all the same.

That time came when Sam Winchester died trying to stop Metatron from taking over the world and Heaven decided that it was time to bring their own version of the apocalypse onto the world. They hunted them like dogs. Chased them from one corner of the globe to another but with Castiel's grace fading and Dean Winchester being a mere human, they lost the battle against the angels. Though, not after killing dozens of them, leaving ashes of their wings embedded onto the bright green grass underneath the beautiful blue sky, the sun was shining exceptionally bright that day.

The sentence was undecided for death was all too kind a sentence to the angels whose brothers and sisters had been murdered brutally by them. Endless anguish, an ache that would linger inside of them for as long as the angels saw fit was widely accepted, though they didn't know how to accomplish that. Angels aren't always merciful, as it would seem.

Hannah thought, they got punished for loving, for fighting for humanity, for their home. What is the wrong in that?

But the angel dismisses the thought. They fought for their home and now she's fighting for hers even though punishing one for loving is the most unfair and cruelest act there is. But this is her family. She has her duties.

"You put them in this endless loop of alternatives, in situations of which they could never end up loving each other to show them pain, yes? The pain of two halves of a whole never meeting in the end, doomed to repeat the process and having a constant ache within themselves without a way out?"

"Yes, that is the aim. Even though they will not know it consciously but subconsciously, they will yearn for each other. Two souls, or should I say a grace and soul tainted by each other, cannot be separated. They will always be linked. They will always feel each other's longing, always feeling that ache, that yearning, that pain inside of themselves but never finding a way to cure it."

"But you're failing."

"Because they can't help but fall for each other. As I have said, they feel, they are linked. It is the same link that holds the plan together as it tears it apart."

"Then don't test them. Give them what they want. Each other. Let them fall for each other. Let them love then rip that love away from them. They'll always love each other, even when one of them is no longer alive."

There was a moment of silence.

"Hannah, that just might work."

Naomi smiled brightly at the angel. Hannah forced her human vessel to move her lips and forced it into a smile of sorts but inside she felt like someone was pulling her heart out of her chest. Pain, that's what it was. And sorrow.

And the plan did work.

<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>

They met on the side of the road when Castiel was trying to fix his car.

Dean was driving to his brother and his fiance's house when he saw a man bent over with his head under the hood trying to work something out. So, as the gallant person that he clearly was, he stopped by and offered help.

The man turned around and accepted it with relief and it was a downhill ride from there.

They got married five years later due to Cas' insistent that they do, adopted two kids and got a home in Dean's hometown.

But then one misfire on the field of work and he was gone.

Just like that.

Dead.

<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>

And so the cycle begins.

_Quos amor verus tenuit tenebit_

_Those whom true love has held, it will go on holding_

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments make my heart stops ;3 Thanks for reading you guys, hoped you liked it :)  
> Also shout out to [Rae](http://padaleckhi.tumblr.com/) <3 for helping me edit this, you're Chuck sent, if you don't trust me just listen to the sound of your name being hailed in the wind and the shrines I've put up in your name.


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